There are two kinds of people.
Those who are forever postulating
that there are two kinds of people.
And those that …
Judgement is a prerogative divine.
The reserve of He who weighs the
hearts and minds
… of all kinds of people.
Words & Image:
~ by david redpath © 2018
~ by Salvador Dali
How we wonder
What lies in wait
On the other side
Beyond the veil
So much of our time
But at what cost?
Are all doors meant to be opened
Or are there some which exist
Solely for the purpose
What exists behind them?
What wonder will remain
When we have pierced the shroud
When we have finally uncovered
Beyond the veil?
My mind is graveyard of thoughts. Of things profound and absurd. Of words that faded in one breath. Left buried and unsaid.
Sometimes, like ghosts, they slip through my door— in the quiet of the night when I’m two seconds away from sleep. Pulling me up from the covers.
At times, in the middle of the day, they sit with me. Side by side. At work, when I’m staring too long at the screen. Or even when I’m randomly talking to my friends.
Remember that when day you told me about the tragedy of the commons? On how individuals tend to exploit / neglect the well-being of shared resources? For a second, Ayn Rand and capitalism came to mind.
But, like all worthy thoughts, I shrugged it away.
I let my mind wander with elves, pixies and silverdusts. I thought about how tragic must it be for other people not…
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“But darling, I’ll always wait for you.
Because you’re worth it.”
But darling, no matter what happens, I’ll always wait for you. Because you are worth it. I can’t live without you here in my arms. I can’t live without you to come home to. I can’t live without you to laugh with on lazy Sunday mornings with coffee and paperback novels. So whenever you’re hurting, or you feel lost, I’ll be here, waiting to do whatever I need to make you whole again.
© Sarah Doughty
Because you are worth it.
This was written for day twenty-two
of November Notes.
With Or Without You
I please some, I disappoint others, and for sure I make the majority yawn. But sometimes, now and again, I will strike a deep dark chord. . . © the author writing as Romantic Dominant…